


The Real Present is You

by secondstar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Presents, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Intercrural Sex, Lace Panties, M/M, Minor panic attack, Panty Kink, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2818175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondstar/pseuds/secondstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles stared down at the foot of the Christmas tree, his lips in a thin line as he crossed his arms. He and Derek decided, as a couple, to put all the presents under the tree at Melissa and his dad’s house for Christmas morning. No where under the tree was there a present from Derek to Stiles, and it was bugging the shit out of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Real Present is You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [literaryoblivion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/gifts).



> this is a secret santa gift for freck :) 
> 
> beta'd by lauren and beth! 
> 
> (sorry for the title oh man)
> 
> *changed the publication date because of author reveal, taken off anon*

Stiles stared down at the foot of the Christmas tree, his lips in a thin line as he crossed his arms. He and Derek decided, as a couple, to put all the presents under the tree at Melissa and his dad’s house for Christmas morning. It was Christmas Eve, and he and Derek would be spending the night. He knew for a fact that Derek hadn’t packed a present, and there wasn’t one hidden in the car anywhere that Stiles could find. He knew this because he’d checked. 

No where under the tree was there a present from Derek to Stiles, and it was bugging the shit out of him. He’d been on his hands and knees, rifling through the packages and bags stuffed with colored tissue paper just to be sure. Derek, busy in the kitchen with Melissa where they were baking, hadn’t noticed Stiles’ quiet distress about it. 

He’d gotten Derek’s weeks ago, Cyber Monday to be specific, and had it shipped to his dad for safe keeping. It sat safely under the tree, already wrapped, with Derek’s name written in sharpie. Stiles sighed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, making Stiles jump as he placed his chin on Stiles’ shoulder. 

“Admiring the tree, obviously,” Stiles deadpanned, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth. Derek hummed noncommittally, then kissed Stiles on the cheek. 

“Come on, we made hot chocolate.” 

Not just hot chocolate, but hot chocolate with whip cream, chocolate shavings, and crushed peppermint pieces. They’d had a massive Christmas Eve dinner with his dad, Melissa, Scott, and Kira, but now it was just the four of them after Scott and Kira headed home for the night. They had Christmas morning at her family’s, then would be over later for the Stilinski-McCall Christmas. Since Cora was still in South America, Stiles and Derek had no where else to be other than with his dad. 

The hot chocolate was home made, very sweet, and rich. Stiles loved it. It wasn’t terribly cold out, but they built a bonfire anyways outside and roasted marshmallows and made smores. Stiles was full and contented by the time they turned in for the night. 

He gave his dad and Melissa a hug goodnight before they both headed upstairs, leaving he and Derek downstairs to do the clean up. It was weird, not being in his childhood home for Christmas, but he was happy that his father found someone. She wasn’t a replacement for his mom, and she didn’t try to be, but after everything Stiles and Scott had been through together, Stiles was glad to call her his mom. 

“You’ve been quiet,” Derek pointed out as he dried his hands, leaning against the counter. Stiles shrugged as he wrapped his arms around Derek, slipping his hand in Derek’s back pocket and squeezing. “What’s on your mind?” Derek asked with a grunt.

“Lots,” Stiles confessed. Derek kissed him, his stubbled chin scraping across Stiles’. 

“Come on, let’s go upstairs,” Derek said as he linked his fingers with Stiles, leading him around, turning off all the lights one by one before heading up the stairs. 

They were staying in Scott’s old room, now an office turned guest bedroom with a blow up mattress that his dad had bought. It fit the two of them, and it was just for the night, so Stiles wasn’t going to complain when he knew he’d be getting his dad’s famous homemade waffles in the morning. Scott would be missing out, and that was the real tragedy of it all. 

Stiles let Derek use the bathroom first, since there wasn’t room for the two of them in it to brush their teeth, while he changed for bed. Normally, he wore nothing, but since he wasn’t in he and Derek’s apartment, he opted to wear flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt. Derek, too, usually slept nude, but packed the same thing. 

When Derek walked back into the room smelling of mouthwash, Stiles got a minty kiss before heading to do the same. He took his time, flossing, gargling mouthwash, and thinking about how to bring up the fact that Derek’s missing present was plaguing him. 

Once back in the room, he found Derek adding more air to the mattress, the sound engulfing the room. Stiles took off his shirt, because he didn’t want it. He already knew he’d be shedding the pajama pants as well, since Derek was practically a personal furnace. 

Stiles crawled onto the bed, under the covers, and turned away from Derek as he made himself comfortable. He was normally the big spoon, latching onto Derek at night, but he felt petulant. When Derek’s arm wrapped around him, Stiles leaned into it, though. He couldn’t help it, even after years of them being together. Derek mouthed at Stiles’ bare shoulder, his breath hot against his skin. 

“Tell me what’s bothering you,” Derek said, his fingers ghosting across Stiles’ stomach as his lips pressed against his shoulder blade. Stiles turned his head, though he couldn’t quite see him in the dark as Derek’s fingers raked through the trail of hair leading down past the elastic of his pajama pants. 

“I don’t have anything under the tree from you,” Stiles pointed out. It sounded silly when said aloud, but it was the truth. Derek let out a huff of amusement against Stiles’ shoulder, then scratched his stubble across the same area. Stiles squirmed, kicking his feet against Derek’s. Derek pinned Stiles in place, rolling him onto his back as he hovered over him. 

“Do you really think you aren’t getting something from me?” Derek asked, eyebrows raised. Stiles frowned. 

“We promised--”

“Presents with the tree, yes, I know, I was there,” Derek said with a roll of his eyes. “It’s there.” 

“No, it isn’t,” Stiles said through gritted teeth. 

“Are you calling me a liar?” Derek asked. Stiles grunted as Derek rolled his hips against him. Stiles was hard, too, but feeling Derek against him made him moan. “Do you trust me?” 

The question was loaded, the history of it going all the way back to Stiles’ sophomore year of high school, and Derek knew it. Stiles thought about holding Derek above water for hours, about dropping him. He thought about everything they’d gone through together. Suddenly a present missing from under a tree seemed too trivial. 

“Yes,” Stiles said. “I trust you.” 

Derek smiled, then bent down to kiss him. 

“I have two presents for you,” Derek admitted. Stiles was about to object, but Derek covered his mouth with his hand to keep him from interrupting. “One for now, and one for tomorrow.” 

“Now?” Stiles asked through Derek’s hand. He looked at the clock over the desk that read close to midnight. 

“Now,” Derek said, kissing Stiles on the lips, his leg pressing between Stiles’ legs. 

“Okay,” Stiles said, kissing him back. “What is it?” 

“You have to unwrap it,” Derek said with a sly grin. Stiles eyed him’ warily, then got off the bed, albeit a little awkwardly, and checked the door to make sure it was locked. He flipped on the desk lamp as well, giving them a little bit of light. 

Stiles didn’t see a present anywhere as Derek propped himself up by his elbows, watching as Stiles put his hands on his hips, waiting. 

“Well?” He asked. Derek smirked at him. 

“Come here,” Derek said, kicking the blanket off of him. Stiles lifted an eyebrow, but did as was suggested. The blow up mattress was awkward as Stiles knelt, straddling Derek’s thighs as he bent over, capturing Derek’s lips with his own in an open mouthed kiss, the movement an instinct after years together. Stiles smiled against the kiss, then raked his teeth across Derek’s lower lip, bringing a low moan from him. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, his voice rougher than it usually was as his legs spread beneath him. Stiles trailed his hand along Derek’s torso, his fingernails raking through his chest of hair, down across his taut stomach before he gripped his growing erection through the fabric of his pajama bottoms. 

“Your dick isn’t really a Christmas present,” Stiles said, his eyes narrowing as Derek laughed, his head falling back momentarily. He lifted his hips as Stiles rolled his eyes, hooking his fingers in the elastic of his pants, tugging them down his thighs, revealing lace. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened. 

He looked at Derek, his mouth hanging open, then back at Derek’s crotch, which was currently covered by underwear, black laced underwear, where his cock could be seen, trapped beneath the fine fabric. 

“Holy shit,” Stiles said, unable to think of anything else because his brain had short circuited. He licked his lips as he felt his entire body flush. They’d mentioned it briefly, in passing, really, about trying something new, about underwear, but he hadn’t been sure that Derek had been on board with it. 

“Do you like it?” Derek asked, smirking. Stiles scoffed as Derek sat up, cupping Stiles’ face in his hands and kissing him. It was heated, not the languid kisses they usually sought out. Stiles’ fingers outlined Derek’s cock over the panties as he moaned into Derek’s open mouth. Derek rolled his hips against the palm of Stiles’ hand, seeking friction. Stiles’ own cock throbbed between his legs, his pupils blown. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, his voice raspy. “Though why you thought giving this to me in my _dad’s_ house was a good idea--”

“I thought it’d be fun,” Derek said as he gripped Stiles’ ass playfully. “Remind us of the old days.” Stiles bit back a laugh as he buried his face against Derek’s chest. He’d never live down being walked in on by his dad, with Derek, when he was in High School. Never. 

“I locked the door this time,” Stiles mused. 

“Good,” Derek said, his breath hot against Stiles’ skin. Stiles closed his eyes as Derek kissed him again. “Merry Christmas.”

Stiles grinned. 

“Happy Birthday,” Stiles said in return. He looked at the clock, it was just after midnight. Derek hummed contentedly as he laid back against the mattress, his fingers trailing down Stiles’ cheek. Stiles turned his head, catching Derek’s thumb in his mouth, his teeth raking across the pad of it before pressing his tongue against it. 

“Do you think you can be quiet?” Stiles asked with a tilt of his head. 

“What do you have in mind?” Derek asked. Instead of answering, Stiles shimmied off of Derek, tugging Derek’s pajama pants the rest of the way off as he got onto his knees. The mattress wasn’t far off the ground, so Stiles comfortably leaned over, mouthing at Derek’s cock through the thin fabric, sucking and lapping at his head. Derek carded his fingers through Stiles’ hair, but remained silent as Stiles palmed at Derek’s dick, cupping his balls as he got harder. Stiles didn’t remove them as he slid his hands up and down Derek’s bare thighs, sucking at his balls through the fabric. 

Derek let out a quiet moan as he spread his legs even more, allowing Stiles to press two fingers upwards, against his taint. Derek sucked in a sharp intake of breath, his grip in Stiles’ hair tightening as Stiles tasted precome through the lace. Stiles’ hand trailed upwards, across Derek’s stomach where he brushed his palm against Derek’s bare skin, resting his head against Derek’s thigh as he watched him come undone at his touch, his cock practically untouched. 

Stiles ghosted a finger along Derek’s stomach, tracing invisible lines up and down his torso as Stiles watched him breathe in and out shallowly. It had been a rough year for them, full of fights, and life changes. Stiles loved Derek, but being in a relationship wasn’t easy. 

“Roll over,” Stiles said, breaking Derek out of a trance. It took him a moment to register that Stiles asked him to move, but as soon as Stiles sat up, his hands off of him, Derek got onto his stomach, his knees tucked up against his chest in the yoga position ‘child’s pose’. Stiles grabbed onto Derek’s ass, spreading his cheeks, then pressed his mouth against the fabric, his tongue tasting nothing but lace until he wet the area completely. 

Derek moaned, his body going lax as Stiles licked, his hands kneading his ass. Slowly, Stiles lowered the lace panties, leaving open mouthed kisses along Derek’s lower back and ass, teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh before his tongue delved inwards, licking and sucking at him. Stiles spread Derek’s cheeks again, giving him better access. 

They didn’t rim each other often, and he knew that if he wasn’t clean, Derek would have told him, stopped him before then. No, Derek had come _prepared_ for this, wanting it. It made Stiles delve deeper, open him more with his mouth, greedy to taste him. 

Stiles’ own cock leaked, straining against the confines of his pajama bottoms. He palmed himself, tugging against his length as he bit at Derek’s bare ass. He watched it redden as he wiped his thumb across Derek’s hole, pressing inwards. Derek hissed, his hips pushing back against Stiles’ thumb as it sunk inwards. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat at the sight. 

“We don’t-- I didn’t bring--” 

He didn’t bring lube, because he hadn’t expected to have sex in his father’s house. With Derek spread out before him, all he wished was to have the half used bottle of lube that sat in their bedside drawer. Stiles leaned forward, resting his head against Derek’s lower back, his lips brushing across bare skin tenderly. 

“Fuck,” Derek said as Stiles held onto his hips, tugging Derek against him so that his erection pressed up against his ass. Stiles ground his hips, letting out a stilted moan as he pressed his forehead against Derek’s back, rolling his hips. Derek reached behind himself, grabbing hold of Stiles’ clothed ass, bringing them even closer together. “Take them off,” Derek said, his face pressed against the mattress as Stiles shoved his pajama bottoms out of the way, down his thighs enough that his cock was freed. Stiles rubbed the head of his cock against the lace as he bit his lip, closing his eyes as he rocked his hips, sliding it against Derek’s thighs. Stiles licked his palm, then jacked off over Derek’s body before he hooked his fingers around the lace panties and shoved his cock between Derek’s thighs, his hips rutting against him as he used his grip on the underwear for purchase. 

Derek grunted, his hands against the back of Stiles’ thighs as Stiles moved atop him, sliding between his thighs. Stiles could feel his climax building as his movements quickened, his breaths becoming shorter. Derek, too, beneath him with a sheen of sweat covering his back, had his mouth hanging open. 

“I want to see you come,” Stiles said as he pulled back, jacking himself off as Derek rolled over onto his back, his cock still straining beneath the black lace. “Through them.” Derek grunted, his eyes closed as he palmed at his cock, rubbing his hand across it. They were soaked with precome, his legs spread as Stiles knelt over him. 

Stiles bent over, a hand by Derek’s head holding him up as he jacked off over Derek’s body. They looked each other in the eye, both of them far gone, their pupils blown as they stroked themselves off in time with the other. Stiles kissed Derek as he came across Derek’s stomach and hand, getting come on the panties and the line of hair below his navel. Derek moaned, his back arching as he kissed Stiles back, his teeth raking across Stiles’ bottom lip as he came, making a mess of the panties, his cock still restrained. 

Stiles collapsed beside him, nuzzling against Derek’s neck as he placed a palm on his chest, thumb teasing a nipple. He couldn’t help but smile, it had been one of the hottest things they’d done in a while, and it had nothing to do with penetration. 

Derek hummed contentedly beside him, his body pliant and relaxed as the come began to dry. Stiles opened his eyes to find Derek staring down at his stomach, contemplating. 

“Well,” Stiles said, sighing. “I think that was the best present you could have given me,” Stiles mused. Derek brushed his nose against Stiles’ forehead before kissing it, then sitting up. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to doing that again,” Derek said as he got off the bed, somewhat awkwardly since the panties were half off of him. Stiles watched, grinning at the site of Derek’s ass hanging out of them, his cock still covered, limp, in the messy fabric. 

“Really?” Stiles asked, come drunk as he sprawled across the bed. “You’d want to--”

“I bought more than one pair,” Derek said, lifting an eyebrow at Stiles as he striped out of them. Stiles watched as Derek got out wet wipes from his overnight bag, cleaning himself off. 

“Sneaky mother fucker,” Stiles mumbled as Derek walked back over to him. He rolled over in time for Derek to crawl under the covers. “You planned it.” 

“Of course,” Derek said incredulously, his eyebrows lifting before they kissed, their legs tangling. Stiles blew a half-hearted raspberry on Derek’s shoulder, then let himself get pinned down against the mattress in retaliation. He laughed as Derek kissed him again, pressing his body against Stiles’. “Happy birthday to me.”

“Happy birthday indeed,” Stiles said as he kissed Derek again before they settled comfortably on the bed, falling asleep. 

In the morning, Stiles awoke to an empty bed. Groggily, he showered, alone, before making his way downstairs for coffee. He was dressed, his hair still wet, when he was greeted by his dad, Melissa, and Derek, who were all way more awake than he was. He sat down at the table, where a cup of coffee waited for him, with the perfect amount of cream and sugar already added to it. 

Before he sat down, he wished his father and Melissa both a Merry Christmas, hugging and kissing them both on the cheek. As he took his first sip of coffee, he smiled, giving Derek a knowing glance. Derek hid his own smile behind his mug, taking a long sip of coffee. 

“Waffles before, or after presents?” His dad asked. 

“Waffles, obviously,” Stiles said in answer. He’d been waiting ages to have them. Along with the waffles they had fresh fruit and whipped cream, which was Stiles’ favorite. Derek, though, ate his with syrup and butter. There were eggs, scrambled, and bacon. By the time they were done, and stuffed, Stiles was about ready for a nap. He and Derek were, as always, on dish duty while his dad made a fire. 

In not so traditional Stilinski-McCall-Hale family fashion, there were Bloody Mary’s and Mimosas. Stiles had gotten his dad a new fishing rod and tackle box, since his old one was, well, older than Stiles was. Stiles watched the presents diminishing from beneath the tree as they were unwrapped one at a time, his mind trailing back to the night before when Derek had promised he had one for Stiles there as well. 

Stiles still didn’t see it. 

His leg bounced up and down as he watched Melissa open a jewelry box with a necklace from his father, then Derek open a leather bound journal from Melissa. Stiles smiled as Derek hugged Melissa, kissing her on the cheek after he ran his fingers over the nice leather. 

Derek had been journaling as part of his therapy. After everything he’d gone through, they’d gone through to get to where they were, Stiles knew that it had been worth it. They were happy. He and Derek both had weekly appointments, separately, and it _helped_. He felt whole, being able to speak freely. Derek, though, had come a long way from the angry man Stiles and Scott came across in the preserve after his sister’s death. 

The Derek before him was the Derek he loved. They didn’t speak the words often, but that didn’t make it any less true. Derek was, and always would be the love of his life. It hadn’t started that way, considering Stiles himself had suggested they _kill_ Derek in order to solve their problems. 

Stiles opened a new Keurig from his dad and Melissa, a joint gift for both he and Derek, along with his yearly package of socks, a Stilinski joke that started when Stiles was in middle school. His dad, as always, also gave him a card with cash in it for Stiles to spend on whatever he wished. Back in college, Stiles usually bought food with it, or the latest video game. Now, Stiles was going to save it towards he and Derek’s planned trip to Europe in the summer. 

“Thanks, dad,” Stiles said, giving his dad a hug. The presents beneath the tree were gone except for those belonging to Scott and Kira, all that was left was the stockings that were full of little things like razors, a new toothbrush, itunes gift cards, and a Home Depot one for Derek. Stiles was not the DYI type. The one time he tried, Derek ended up needing to call a plumber. Stiles had a ban on touching household problems. 

Stiles sighed as they picked up the wrapping paper, balling it up to add to the fire. Scott and Kira would be around in the afternoon. He didn’t want to bring up, again, about the present. It wasn’t necessary, really, because he’d had a nice Christmas otherwise. 

For Derek’s birthday, Melissa made a cake. With A Christmas Story on in the background, they sang Derek happy birthday out of key, then sat around the TV, watching the movie. Stiles sat on the ground beside Derek’s feet, gorging himself on cake when he looked at the tree. There, half hidden between a branch and a Christmas light, was a small, wrapped present. Stiles’ eyes widened when he noticed the size of it: small, rectangular. The size of a ring box. 

Stiles looked at Melissa’s left hand, ringless, then his father’s: the same. He thought about he and Derek, and about their relationship. He wondered if it was his missing present, or if it was for Melissa instead. Stiles didn’t dare get his hopes up, so he finished his cake instead, his eyes focusing on the movie as Derek lazily carded his fingers through Stiles’ hair. Stiles leaned back against the touch, hoping that the box was for him. 

They napped on the couch, their heads on opposite ends, his feet tucked up and pinned against the back cushion by Derek’s back. Derek’s socked feet were in his face when he woke up as Scott and Kira walked through the front door bearing gifts and food. Sometime during their nap, a blanket had been draped over he and Derek, and Derek’s head was nothing but a tuft of hair sticking out of said blanket. Stiles stretched, yawning as he kicked at Derek idly. Derek grunted, pushing his back against the cushions, effectively keeping Stiles in place. 

“Up,” Stiles said his hand roaming beneath the blanket and pinching him on the ass. 

“Agh,” Derek grumbled, grabbing Stiles’ wrist. 

“Time to get up,” Scott said, pulling the blanket off of them. “We brought dessert.” 

“I’m up,” Stiles said. He loved Kira’s Chocolate Mousse pie that was really just chocolate pudding mixed with whip cream with more whip cream on top but it was delicious and that was all that mattered. Stiles left Derek on the couch, crawling on top of him in order to get out of being pinned down. 

Stiles watched his father carefully around Melissa for the rest of the day, seeing if he felt any sort of wave of anxiety coming off of his dad. Besides almost burning dinner, though, he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Derek, too, seemed his normal quiet yet broody self. 

Maybe the box was for Kira. 

Stiles tried to take a look at the box without being overt about it. It was tricky to do, considering the house was full of people, but still. Scott kept giving Stiles odd glances, his eyes narrowing or eyebrow lifting at odd times, so Stiles was pretty sure that the box was in fact for Kira. It had to be. 

It was about time, really, considering they’d been dating longer than Stiles and Derek had been. Sure, Stiles and Derek took a while before they labeled themselves, mostly because Derek had his emotional baggage that came along with commitment issues the size of the Grand Canyon, but still. Stiles knew that Scott would be happy, and so would Kira. Stiles would be happy for them. 

He didn’t need a ring around his finger to know that Derek loved him. Still, it made his heart clench to think about watching Scott down on one knee for Kira and wonder if he’d ever get the same. Maybe he needed to be the one to take that leap of faith and ask Derek. 

Stiles sat, staring off into nothing when fingers were snapped in front of him. When his eyes came into focus, he saw Scott sitting beside him. 

“You okay, dude?” Scott asked, nudging Stiles’ shoulder with his own. Stiles pressed back against him, giving him a lazy smile.

“Yeah, you?” Stiles asked, looking at the tree. 

“Of course,” Scott said, his brow knitted. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Stiles shrugged, his eyes moving from the tree down to his hands. He sighed. “You sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, knowing that Scott could detect the lie. 

“Do you want to talk somewhere--”

“Boys, it’s time for round two of dessert,” his dad called out from the kitchen. Post dinner dessert was a blackberry cobbler, which had Stiles moaning. Melissa was an amazing baker. Derek wasn’t too bad himself, but tended to keep that between himself and Stiles. Stiles didn’t mind keeping Derek’s cookie baking skills on the down low, as long as he got dibs on them. 

After dessert, and dishes, it was time for more presents to be opened. Stiles sat at the edge of the couch, keeping to himself as he watched his friends and family open more gifts. It felt like an outer body experience, where he wasn’t really aware of what was going on around him even though he went through the motions. Scott got him a video game, he got Scott the same. He and Derek got Kira a new leather jacket, which she jumped up and down over. Still, Stiles had no second gift from Derek. 

His nerves were completely shot as his leg bounced up and down, his elbow on the armrest as he covered his hand with his mouth, trying to keep from biting his nails. Beside him, Derek kept giving him concerned glances, his brow furrowed, a hand resting idly on Stiles’ thigh, thumb swiping back and forth in an attempt at comfort. 

Stiles’ heart continued to beat faster and faster the more he thought about the box, breaking out in a sweat at the nape of his neck and hairline. Stiles wiped at his face as the room closed in on him. He shut his eyes as Derek asked if he was okay, but his voice sounded far off. When Stiles opened his eyes, the room spun. 

He was having a panic attack about a gift, a stupid little box that sat in the tree. He’d laugh if he wasn’t fighting to breathe as he stood up, tugging at his shirt as he made his way down the hall towards the half bath. Stiles splashed water on his face, inhaling air as best he could with the door shut. When the handle turned, he locked the door for privacy. Immediately, there was a knock at the door. 

“Stiles,” his dad said. “Are you alright?” 

“I need a minute,” Stiles said, his voice shaking. He splashed water on his face again, then cupped water in his hands, drinking it. After he turned the water off, he slid down the door, sitting on the ground as he stared at the wall, his face dripping wet. 

It had been a long time since he’d had a panic attack. Stiles shut his eyes, concentrating on his breathing until his hands no longer shook and he could take full breaths without stuttering. When he stood and looked in the mirror, he looked pale. 

He rolled his eyes at himself, then opened the door. He half expected to find Derek there, sitting with his back against the wall waiting for him, but he wasn’t. Everyone was in the living room, by the tree, just where he left them, though Melissa, Scott, and Kira now sat on the couch while Derek and his father stood off to the side, their heads bent close as they talked. Everyone looked at him as he walked back in, the room silent. 

Stiles shrugged his shoulders, then rolled them back, clapping his hands together once. 

“It isn’t a holiday without a minor anxiety attack, am I right?” He said, playing it off. Scott nodded encouragingly while Melissa gave him an empathetic smile. His father and Derek, though, weren’t going to placate him. Stiles cleared his throat as he walked around the couch, bending down in front of the tree to hand someone a gift; the last gift. 

When Stiles saw it was for Melissa, his hand shook a little. After he handed it to her, he walked over to Derek, putting his hand around his waist to hide his nerves. Derek put his hand around Stiles’ shoulder, squeezing it. Stiles closed his eyes when he felt Derek’s lips against his temple. It calmed him. 

It would be okay if it wasn’t for him. He’d be happy for Melissa or Kira, his father or Scott. He and Derek linked fingers as he slipped his hand against the one Derek had hanging over Stiles’ shoulder. 

“I think there’s one present left,” his dad said, stepping forward and pointing at the small, half hidden box. Stiles held his breath, thinking that meant it was clearly for Melissa. When his dad turned towards he and Derek, though, Stiles’ stomach dropped. His dad didn’t look at him, he looked at Derek, whose arm slipped away from Stiles, his hand sliding down Stiles’ back as he stepped forward, taking the box from his dad. 

Stiles held his breath, unable to look away from Derek, who stood in front of their closest friends and family, _their pack_ , his eyes on his hands that held a perfectly wrapped box with a ribbon on it. When Derek looked up at him, all the breath left Stiles’ lungs, his eyes beginning to water. He looked to his father, who stood watching with a look on his face Stiles had rarely seen, pride. Pride for Stiles, who was in a relationship with someone who loved him, pride for Derek, who’d come so far from the shell of a man he had forced into the back of his cruiser in handcuffs. 

As Derek got down on one knee in front of him, Stiles covered his mouth with his hands because he couldn’t think what else to do with them. He watched as Derek took a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly as they locked eyes. The entire room seemed to go away around them, the small audience forgotten. 

“When I first approached your dad about asking you to marry me,” Derek said, his voice soft, but sure, “I wasn’t sure that he’d approve.” 

Stiles bit his lip to keep from interrupting him. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt Derek during what was probably his most rehearsed speech ever, considering Stiles knew how many times Derek went over things in his head before he actually went through with them. Derek broke eye contact with Stiles for just a moment in order to look at the Sheriff. Stiles, too, looked at his dad. He gave Derek a thumbs up; such a dad thing to do. 

“He not only approved, but he suggested Christmas time.” Derek took another breath as he began to unwrap the gift, his fingers tugging at the bow. It fell to the ground silently. “Stiles,” Derek said. “I love you, more than anything. You are my family, my pack, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” The wrapping paper fell away, revealing a little black box. Stiles took a step forward as Derek opened it. Inside was not only one ring, but two. Neither of which were new looking. Stiles dropped to his knees as he looked closer, one of the rings familiar to him. 

He looked to his father, to his left hand, which was now bare, holding Melissa’s as he stood watching Stiles and Derek. Derek lifted not Stiles’ father’s ring, but the other, tarnished and silver instead of gold. 

“Stiles, will you marry me?” Derek asked. Stiles knew without Derek saying, whose ring the one held up for him it was. Somehow, Derek had his father’s wedding band, and he was offering it to Stiles as an engagement ring. Stiles started nodding his head before he was able to speak, for the first time in his life words didn’t seem easy. 

“Yes,” Stiles whispered. Derek’s eyes, glistening, closed as he visibly let out the breath he’d been holding. He slipped the ring on Stiles’ finger as Stiles cupped Derek’s face in his hands, their lips crashing together. They clung to each other as the kiss deepened, the anxiety Stiles had felt all day washed away. All that remained was his love and admiration for Derek. 

When the kiss ended, Stiles looked at the ring, playing with it with his thumb. It was too big for his fingers, which were long and thin. He watched as Derek put his father’s ring on. They would be a family. 

Around them, everyone cheered as they got to their feet. Melissa clapping her hands as Scott rushed forward, enveloping them both in a hug. When Stiles hugged his father, he buried his face against his neck, holding tight. 

“When he asked for permission, I knew I had to give it to him,” he said. Tears were in Stiles’ eyes as he nodded his head. “It was my idea, about the rings.” 

“I love it,” Stiles admitted, wiping at his eyes. He felt Derek’s hand on his lower back, reassuring and firm as he turned to look at him, a smile on his face. “I love you,” Stiles said. 

“I love you,” Derek said in return, and Stiles knew he meant it. 

“Best Christmas ever,” Stiles murmured right before his lips met Derek’s. Derek smiled against the kiss. 

“And birthday,” Derek pointed out. 

“Overachiever,” Stiles preened, unable to hide how unbelievably happy he was. Derek smirked as he pulled Stiles closer, nuzzling at his neck before speaking into his ear in a whisper. 

“I also bought a present for myself,” Derek said. 

“Oh, yeah?” Stiles asked, intrigued. Derek nodded, breathing Stiles in. “Do I get to know what it is?”

“Not until we get home.” 

“Hey dad, Derek and I are going to head home soon,” Stiles said in a laugh. Usually, they’d stay and play games together, but this was an exception. 

On the car ride home, they held hands. Derek played with the ring on Stiles’ finger as he drove, looking down at it every so often. Stiles brought their hands up to his mouth and kissed Derek’s knuckles, smiling. 

“What’s the surprise?” Stiles asked. 

“That I want to see you in what I bought for your present,” Derek said with a grin. Stiles bit back a moan as he thought about himself beneath Derek, wearing the lace panties. “See you come undone.” 

“Oh, I believe that can be arranged for my fiancee,” Stiles said, saying it for the first time. Derek sat up straighter, his sheer enjoyment palpable. 

“Say it again,” Derek said. 

“Fiancee,” Stiles crooned, leaning over to kiss him. “Stilinski-Hale, Hale-Stilinski? No. Stilinski-Hale sounds better,” Stiles decided. “Are we hyphenating? Or--”

“Stiles,” Derek said as they pulled up to their parking spot. “We can discuss all that later.”

“Right,” Stiles said. “First: sex.”

“Lot’s of it.”

“In multiple positions.” 

“And then planning the wedding.” 

“I want a summer wedding,” Stiles stated as Derek pulled him towards their apartment, linking their fingers together again.

“Anything you want.”

“Anything?” Stiles asked mischievously.

“Well--”

“Too late!” Stiles called out.


End file.
